The Soo Legacy: Origins
by ToryTigress92
Summary: A series of oneshots detailing the origin stories of each of my class characters. Next up: Voreina Talos has known only gangland violence and a desperate struggle for survival during her short life in the underlevels of Coruscant. The death of her brother leaves her vulnerable to a dark path, but the intervention of a Jedi Knight might just give her purpose again. Also on AO3.
1. Jada & Shire'en Soo

_**The Soo Legacy - Origins**_

 _ **Warnings:**_ Character death, injury, slavery, depictions of grief and injury

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing in relation to Star Wars: the Old Republic, its associated trademarks or properties. They all belong to LucasArts, Disney and Bioware

 _Part I - Jada & Shire'en Soo_

* * *

 **3559 BBY**

The ship shuddered and roiled, durasteel bulkheads groaning with the sound of ventral cannon fire as they found their targets on the overwhelmed convoy ships.

To the two little girls who clung with desperate fingers to their mother's skirts, the explosions and rhythmic _thuds_ of the cannons were terror personified, accompanied by the frenzied drumbeats of their mother's heartbeat and the angry shouts of the Imperial soldiers as they ransacked the living quarters.

Twin sets of blue eyes met and held over the white shimmersilk of their mother's skirts, red curls falling riotously over infantile faces. Chubby fingers twining and clasping each other through diaphanous fabric.

"Ssh, Ssh my darlings," Lin Soo tried to comfort them as she led them through the corridors, ducking the roaming Imperial squads as they searched the ship. Their convoy hadn't been heavily guarded; attack hadn't been seen as a likely threat. They were just ordinary citizens travelling the hyperspace route from Coruscant to Tattooine. Liné had been travelling to join her husband on Tattooine with their twins when an Imperial frigate had jumped into existence in their path, demanding their surrender and obedience. The scant resistance the few Republic soldiers had put up when the Imperials boarded had been for naught.

Liné knew the fate that awaited those snatched in these raids. Slavery.

She wouldn't let it happen to her girls. There was too much of a risk that they would discover what Liné herself suspected, that at least one of her daughters was Force sensitive.

Not for the first time, Liné thanked the Maker for her training as a former SIS agent, letting her cling to the shadows even with two small girls in tow, as the sounds of fighting and screams slipped away. It wasn't far to the escape pods. It was only hope they had left.

"Halt! Stop where you are!" a cold voice shouted through a vocoder. Liné didn't hesitate, as she turned on her heels and drew the small, sleek blaster pistol at her side. Her shots found their mark with unerring precision, a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Mama?" Jada Soo's voice recalled her mother from her preoccupation, staring up at her with shocked, though still calm, eyes. Beside her, Milana held tightly to her sister's hand, her eyes wide with fear.

"It's alright, Jada," Liné soothed her daughters' fear. "But I need you to keep hold of Milana's hand, okay? Just keep holding her hand and we'll get out of here."

The girl nodded silently, as Liné holstered her pistol and left the smoking corpse of the Imperial far behind them.

They moved through the ship unhindered, but always with the sound of pursuit in dogging their footsteps. Liné kept her blaster pistol drawn, but they didn't meet another Imperial soldier again. As they turned the corner into the escape pod bay, she breathed a sigh of relief when she caught a glimpse of plasteel armour and the vibrant scarlet of the Republic insignia on a shoulder pauldron.

"Halt! Halt in the name of the Empire!" an all too familiar cadence called out behind her, and Liné did not hesitate, dropping Jada's hand and turning on her boot heel to fire on the approaching Imperial troops. A millisecond too late…

The blaster bolt sheared into her midsection, driving the breath from her lungs as she dropped to her knees. The pain was intense and burning, as the sound of blaster fire surrounded her, as Republic and Imperial troops engaged above her head. Frantically, with the last of her strength, she searched for Jada and Milana…

Her strength failing her, Liné collapsed to her elbows, hands clutched over her wound, eyes latching on to the pained blue of her daughters' own. With a growing sense of distance, she watched as Jada let loose a tearing, echoing cry of grief and rage, reverberating throughout the ship as the Imperial were thrown bodily away, bulkhead panels torn from their rivulets and the sound of blaster fire abruptly silenced beneath the grief-stricken child's cry. She watched as Jada dropped to her knees, her voice silenced, blood dripping from one nostril as a Republic trooper caught her around the waist and hoisted her into his arms, shouting back to his companions. But where was Milana…?

Liné's eyes closed, heart wrung by one final unanswered mystery. Where was Milana?

* * *

Voices. Cold, haughty and unkind voices over her head.

Everything hurt and she couldn't hear what the voices were saying properly. Where was Mama? Where was her sister?

Strong arms hefted her up like a sack of grain over a hard shoulder, uncaring of her sore body.

The voices came a little louder now. "Take this one, she'll do for the slavers. The mother's dead."

Milana slipped into the darkness, childishly grateful for its escape, uncomprehending of what had just occurred. But where was her sister, her twin? Where was Jada?

* * *

Jada listened with detached curiosity as her father talked with the strange people in brown robes. She had not spoken much since her rescue from the _Pilgrim_ weeks before, but now she listened.

"I just don't know what to do," Rynell Soo sighed brokenly. "She hasn't said a word since we…lost Milana and Liné when the _Pilgrim_ was attacked. She won't talk to anyone. And if what you've said is true…"

"Sergeant Camm's testimony was unimpeachable, and the security footage we managed to recover from the _Pilgrim_ merely confirms it," the strange man in the robes said. "Your daughter is strong in the Force, stronger than any youngling I have yet encountered. She must be trained."

"I know," Rynell sighed heavily, eyes downcast as he stared at the floor of his homestead. The light from the twin suns of Tattooine beat down on him, even in the cooled exterior of his home, but nothing compared to the heat of his grief, and the reminder of that grief who sat a few metres away, sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at nothing, her deep blue eyes vacant and aged, her red curls so like her mother's and her twin sister's. He raised his gaze to the wise, warm gaze of the Corellian before him, pate bald but for a small topknot, eyes kind and understanding. How many had this Jedi seen die? How many did he care for?

Could he give his daughter, his last remaining child and bond to his lost wife, to the Jedi?

He told himself it was for the best, that she couldn't stay with him, untrained and powerful, sure to attract the wrong kind of attention. He told himself Tattooine was no place for a girl child, so young and vulnerable, a dig site no home for her. There were too many dangers, Tusken Raiders, pirates, slavers and worse, that roamed the sands. She would distract from his work, without a mother to care for her, constantly demand attention he had no time to give. She would grow to hate him eventually, if he kept her here.

But deep in his heart, Rynell acknowledged the truth. He couldn't bear to keep her with him.

With a deep breath, he raised his gaze back to the Jedi and nodded. "Then take her, Master Syo."

He closed his eyes to the blue, blue eyes that watched him without sadness, without feeling save for a faint lingering sense of reproach. But whether that came from Jada, or from himself, Rynell couldn't say as he watched the Jedi lead the little girl away by the hand.

* * *

It was all noise, heat, darkness and pain in the slave pens. The small Human child was buffeted this way and that by the teeming masses, confused and terrified. Cold Imperial eyes skipped over her thoughtlessly, while others watched her with pity, or listlessness, while others considered her like a meal. Fresh meat.

The girl froze with terror as one, a hulking Kaleesh began stalking in her direction, until its way was blocked by the lithe form of a Togruta female. "Not this one, Kylex!" she snarled, holding a rusty piece of metal like a sword. The Kaleesh stopped, yellow eyes narrowed, as it considered the threat but before it could make another move, the guard's voice snapped out an order to move across the pen. The Togruta grasped her chance to lift the child into her arms and disappear into the crowd, arms tight around her.

A moment later, she considered her charge through tired eyes. She was skinny and small, barely five standard years old. She'd be lucky to survive more than a week in the slave pens.

She sighed. "What's your name, kid?"

The little girl stared up at her through scared, red-rimmed eyes. She could feel the fear and the grief rolling off of the kid like a wave of static electricity. She didn't need this, didn't need someone to protect and watch out for, she had to look out for herself…

The girl shook her head despairingly. The Togruta softened as she pulled the little one closer, trying to will strength into her from her arms.

 _Kriff_. "Well, my name's Tay," the Togruta explained softly. "Since you got no name, I'll call you Shire'en."

The little girl didn't reply, just snuggled closer into her protector's embrace. Tay sighed again. _Kriffing hell_.

* * *

 **3643 BBY**

Jada possessed nothing but the greatest respect for her teachers.

Master Satele drilled her intensively in the lightsabre combat that had become so important in this era of shadow warfare, making Jada practice the forms that could one day save her life until her muscles screamed from exhaustion and sweat dripped down her brow, soaking her training tunic. She liked nothing more than to watch Master Satele practice her own forms, lithe and deadly, and hope one day she could emulate that grace.

Master Syo was kind and avuncular, much like she had once imagined the shadowy figure in her memories to be like, the father she couldn't quite remember any more. His mastery of the Force was unparalleled, and Jada listened intently to all he had to impart. When nightmares and old wounds sought to trouble her at night, it was the memory of Master Syo's calm, warm voice reciting the Jedi Code that eased her back to serenity and sleep.

But today was to be a new day, a new beginning, a new Master.

As Jada left the transport and looked out over the wide vista of Tython, over ancient ruins and rolling green hills and thunderous waterfalls, she inhaled deeply and with a small smile.

The Light Side of the Force surrounded and cradled her in its light, filling her every cell, as she went to meet the familiar figure of Master Syo, not noticing the stares of the other Padawans and Masters as they sensed her in the Force.

"Ah, Padawan," Master Syo smiled warmly at the sight of the young woman, in humble training garb, red curls tightly wound into a knot at the back of her head. She was a far cry from the sad little girl he had first met on Tattooine. "I heard your shuttle arriving. Welcome to Tython."

He smiled at her eagerness when she expressed her sense of honour at being permitted to study on Tython. "So eager! You and your new Master should get along nicely."

Turning, he led her into the Masters' Retreat, into a small antechamber to await Master Yuon's arrival. "I was…hoping your new Master would be here. Yuon left her dig site and is returning to Tython specifically to train you."

"Is Master Yuon an archaeologist?" Jada asked curiously. Just like her father had been… Jada felt the pain of that old wound twinge, before letting it go as she had been trained.

If Master Syo sensed her momentary lapse, he gave no sign. "In a way. As you become her Padawan, never forget your initial training, nor the Jedi Code."

As Master Syo began to recite the Code, Jada felt that familiar peace wash over her as she listened, and smiled.

Master Syo was interrupted by the arrival of a woman some years older than Jada, with aged features and dark brown hair tightly held in a ponytail. But her eyes were shrewd and piercing as she surveyed her new apprentice. "Yuon! I was beginning to worry…" Master Syo remarked calmly. Privately Jada wondered if Master Syo ever showed anything so blatantly unJedi as _worry_ on his face.

"So you've arrived safely, my Padawan," Master Yuon began, almost impatiently for a Jedi Master. "I'm sorry I can't greet you properly, but we already have a crisis on our hands."

Jada didn't let her alarm affect her bearing as she inclined her head. "I am at your service, Master."

She listened intently as Master Yuon went on to explain Tython's historical significance and the crisis developing in the training grounds. Despite Master Syo's objections, Master Yuon saw fit to task her with the recovery of the teaching holograms.

"A Padawan who was stronger in the Force at four years old than I was at fifteen? Gifted students need greater challenges," she retorted, almost heatedly for a Jedi Master, and Jada felt something like pride fill her at her Master's confidence.

She had always tried to show humility as befit a Jedi, but sometimes it was difficult. Equally, as she had grown and trained, she had itched for greater challenges than her previous instructors could give her. Now here was a Master who would grant her such. She had a feeling she was going to like Master Yuon very much…

* * *

 _The dig site was a mass of heaving, sweating bodies in the dry air of Korriban. Even this far down into the rock, the air remained cold and arid, stealing the moisture from the slaves' breath as they laboured to claw and dig away at more rock and sand, searching for the treasure beneath._

 _Shire'en supposed it was lucky she and Tay had been posted together that day, for companionship if nothing else. In all the years since Shire'en had been sold into slavery, Tay had watched her back and as she had grown, so Shire'en had watched hers in return. It was a weakness to admit it in the darkness of Korriban's slave pens, but the Togruta was almost a mother to her._

 _The word conjured up disjointed memories of pain and fear, and the feeling of cold, icy air as white light blasted away her vision before she awoke in the chaos of the slave pens, and Shire'en instinctively shied away from them. The life of a slave was one of constant drudging survival, and Shire'en had become a master at its tricks. She pushed the memories down, down far beneath the surface of her consciousness, and the emotions they evoked with them. In the slave pens, she couldn't afford to feel. She couldn't afford weakness._

 _She glanced sideways at the stained yellow skins of Tay's lekku and montrals, a small smile on her weary face as she paused a moment from her work. Shire'en glanced around for the overseer, but he was busy abusing some other poor soul further up the tunnels from their position. To Shire'en's shock, she recognised the darkly robed figure next to him. What was a Sith doing in the tunnels?_

" _Alright, Shire'en?" Tay asked, reclaiming her companion's attention, her voice hoarse from dehydration and the dry air. Shire'en smiled, her lips tight and cracked. Before she could reply, there came a great shout and then a scream. From the depths of the tunnel came a snarl as blood sprayed the rock. Red eyes alit in the darkness, making Shire'en's skin crawl._

 _A tuk'ata._

 _They must have hit the tomb then, if such a creature had found its way into the tunnel, Shire'en mused in a kind of terrified distraction, as she froze, her tools hanging limply from her hands._

" _Shire'en! Get outta the way!" Tay screamed, her hard arms clamping around her waist and pulling her aside. The tuk'ata lunged and pounced on Tay, as Shire'en landed hard, the breath knocked from her._

 _She stared in horror at Tay's widened eyes, a scream forever etched onto her bloodied lips, as the light faded from then. It brought back memories of pain and fear and icy light, and another face as life faded from it. Not again…_

 _A scream ripped itself from Shire'en's throat as she reached out, towards the tuk'ata, even as her mind roared in terror and grief at her for her stupidity. What was she doing…?_

 _Something more instinctual than thought had gripped her, as the fear and the grief lent her strength, as power leapt from her outstretched hand towards the tuk'ata. The beast was thrown from Tay's body, encased in shining tendrils of light that fizzed and sparked insidiously. The animal screamed and roared in fury, but it was no use. It could not get free._

 _Her eyes on the bloodied body of the Togruta who had saved her and raised her and saved her again, Shire'en clenched her fist and sucked the air from the tuk'ata's body until all that was left a feeble kick of its paws, a final reflex, a mockery of life as it died._

 _Silence fell in the tunnel, as the slaves cowered against the rock and the overseer trembled. But the cloaked figure looked on the slave bent over the fallen alien, yellow eyes wide with shock and consternation._

 _Cautiously, for he could sense the power the girl possessed even if he hadn't watched her throw Force lightning and choke the life from the tuk'ata with his own eyes, he approached her and placed his hand on her shoulder._

 _Such power could not be wasted in the slave pens. Not when the Emperor had decreed it otherwise._

" _Come with me, girl…"_

The sudden landing of the shuttle jarred Shire'en from sleep and memory, as she blinked lazily at the arid, fiery light that filled the cabin as the doors opened with a _hiss_.

She pushed down the grief and fear her dream had awoken with a determined sigh, as she unclipped her seat harness and filed out of the shuttle with the other acolytes. Despite herself, she glanced up at the sight that revealed itself before her: the Sith Academy, and the Valley of the Dark Lords.

She had been posted on the other side of the continent prior to her…discovery, and had only heard stories about the place she now stood. She could feel the darkness that lay over the valley like a cloud, one that had lain over her since she could remember.

Shire'en was jolted from her ruminations by a hooded figure, who barged past her. She barely winced, long used to the rough cruelties of the slave overseers. A little rudeness wouldn't scare her. Nevertheless, she could feel the acolyte's disdainful glare and let it make her angry to be so easily discounted. Anger was good, the instructors had said. Anger would make her powerful, as long as she harnessed it correctly.

It would set her free.

Shire'en was no fool. She knew she was just as much a slave here as she was in the pens. And she would be until she learned to play the rules of the game and claimed her own place in the Sith Empire. Meekness would only get her killed.

She took one last look around her, at the crumbling edifices of the tombs, and the looming shadows of the Destroyer above her head, before jogging to catch up with the others.

It wouldn't do to be late to her very first day at the Academy.

* * *

Jada entered the cavernous chamber of the Council with reverence. Master Yuon awaited her, bowing her head respectfully as she arrived with Qyzen at her side. Jada wasn't sure what to make of the Trandoshan's insistence on following her, but she would not alienate him by questioning his beliefs too closely. He was a strong ally to fight at her side.

The fight with Nalen had been hard, but ultimately he had been no match for the lightsabre now hanging at her hip. She still felt the thrill that had rushed through her as she had knelt at the altar and let the Force guide her as she slotted the pieces into place.

And now, it was over. Her training and her Trials were over.

She bowed to the Council, as Master Syo spoke beside her.

"We've been waiting for you, Padawan. Welcome," he gestured for her to step forward, as Master Jeric and Master Satele both bowed their heads to her in welcome.

"I've been treating Nalen Raloch," Master Satele began, her voice cool yet kind. "The Pilgrims who carried him here told us of your battle. Remarkable."

Jada felt the compliment warm her, but she showed no outward sign of it. She simply bowed in respect. "I would have brought a peaceful solution if I could, Master."

"Peace is the ideal, Padawan, but there's no shame in defending yourself," Master Satele replied gently.

"It seems we have much to learn about the villagers. Perhaps we should rethink our position," Master Jeric added thoughtfully.

"Enough, enough!" Master Yuon cut in forcefully, drawing Jada's attention. She could sense her curiosity in the Force, and it made her smile. "Padawan, the Fount of Rajivari, you actually set foot there? Please, tell me everything."

"Master Rajivari himself spoke to me. Or what was left of him at least," Jada replied, musing on her meeting with the ancient fallen Jedi.

"You saw a Force apparition, of Rajivari? This is extraordinary!" Master Yuon exclaimed excitedly, although Jada sensed the disquiet coming from the Council members present.

Master Jeric saw fit to apologise for his scepticism, before Master Satele corrected him. Her words sent a quiet thrill through Jada. "No longer a Padawan. She carries a lightsabre; she has proven herself. I have only one last question before her training's complete. At the moment, Nalen Raloch is resting in a kolto tank. When he's well, what should become of him?"

Jada took a moment to consider her words, as she knew the Council would expect. But the choice was obvious. "Nalen proved he has great strength in the Force. Maybe he has a future with us," she said finally, feeling the disapproval and surprise emanating from Qyzen, Master Yuon, Jeric and Syo. But not Satele; from her Jada sensed only approval and satisfaction.

Their fragile peace with the Sith Empire would hold only so long. Soon enough, war would start again and when it did, they would need all the Jedi they could muster.

"And bring reconciliation between us and the villagers, a sound idea," Master Satele voiced her agreement, sealing the decision.

"We judge you ready to accept your place as a Jedi. Yuon, if you would?" Master Syo continued, looking to her Master.

Jada's heart raced, but she was serenity personified as she turned to face her former Master.

"Before this Council, I take from you the title of Padawan. I name you a full Jedi of our Order. Honour the past. Work…for the future," Master Yuon recited solemnly, holding Jada's eyes intently. The younger woman pushed her fears and doubts aside, basking in the light she could sense all around her as she answered.

"This I solemnly vow to do," she replied firmly. A moment before, she had stood at a crossroads and now she had taken her first step into her future. In her mind, the galaxy spread out before her, a vast, unknowable morass of conflict and knowledge just waiting to be discovered. She would see it all, know it all. She would serve the Force, and in doing so, serve the Republic and all that was good.

"May the Force be always with you," Master Yuon intoned, echoed by the other Masters as they stood and bowed to her. Jada's former Master smiled as she stepped forward to clasp her student's hands. "You've…done so well, my student. I've…" she stopped abruptly, pain constricting her countenance as she released Jada's hands to touch her temple.

"Master Yuon?" Jada said questioningly, as she sensed something amiss in the Jedi Master's mind. The other Masters rose and began to move towards them when Master Yuon suddenly collapsed. As Jada rushed to aid her Master, followed by Masters Satele and Syo, she reflected that future was rushing towards her quicker than she'd expected.

And in her heart of hearts, she would have it no other way. She was a Jedi Knight, and it was her time to serve.

* * *

Shire'en felt nothing but satisfaction as she watched the Pureblood writhe and squirm under Lord Zash's glare. With a dismissive gesture, the Sith Lord turned to the Overseer with a snarl. "Harkun, you fool! In any other group for any other lord, this young man would have torn the other acolytes to shreds. What were you trying to prove!? That you could outsmart me!? That you knew better than me what kind of person I wanted for an apprentice? You fool!"

Shire'en's satisfaction peaked at the sound of Ffon's dying screams as Lord Zash unleashed a torrent of Force lightning against him. She sensed the life leave his body, and let it strengthen her. Despite it all, despite the trials, the ambush, Harkun's favouritism and sneering dismissal of her, _**she**_ had triumphed.

As Ffon's body slumped to the floor, Lord Zash wiped her gloved hands dismissively. "There's your pet, Harkun. Clean this mess up," she sneered, before her youthful features brightened as she turned to the younger woman. "Apprentice, meet me in my chambers upstairs."

Shire'en bowed respectfully as the Sith Lord left the room, eyes following her intently beneath her veneer of respect. She dismissed Harkun's threats as she left, knowing them for what they were: the final pathetic power play of a beaten man. Harkun could do nothing more to her.

As Khem walked at her side, attracting stares and fearful whispers, Shire'en reflected on her new status. She was a slave no longer. Now, she was the apprentice to a Sith Lord, and this was just the beginning.

* * *

 _To be continued..._

 _Part II: the Origins of Voreina, the Jedi Sentinel_


	2. Voreina Talos

_**The Soo Legacy - Origins**_

Part II - Voreina Talos

* * *

 **3648 BBY**

She was sixteen standard years old when she watched her brother die in a hail of blaster fire. Growing up in the ganglands of the Coruscant undercity, devoid of parental care from the age of ten, Voreina had always thought she was too hard to be affected by death.

Watching friends die even as they grew up tended to have that effect. Watching both parents die from an illness which would have been easily treated if they hadn't been born in the undercity of Coruscant tended to have that effect. Fighting for each scrap of food or water ration tended to have that effect. Evading the attention of the myriad Coruscanti gangs with every ounce of guile and cunning she possessed tended to have that effect. Voreina had thought there was nothing else left for the galaxy to throw at her that could pierce the durasteel walls she had built around her heart.

The sight of her brother, the only family she had left, falling to the floor, peppered with contusions and deep burns that not even a good draft of kolto could help, tended to have that effect. She didn't even have the luxury of kolto, the good stuff anyway, just the third-rate reject gunk smuggled in by the Black Sun gang runners and sold for exorbitant prices to the truly desperate.

Voreina had never been one for their mother's staunch devotion to the Force and their people's beliefs. Growing up in the Coruscant undercity had drummed it out of her, even as she could not deny their truth - how else could a Miralukan with no eyes see everything around her as though she did? - but the rest of it, Voreina had no time for. They were stories, make-believe tales to soothe the every day travails of their existence. They would do her no good in the undercity.

Nevertheless, as Voreina cradled her brother's fading body, she let herself believe, just a little. It was comforting to imagine that some part of Kamal would live on through the Force.

The sound of explosions and shouting pierced the cloud of grief in her head, as she looked up from her brother's slack features, staring at the commotion's source. A squad of Republic Security officers had engaged the gang thugs, exchanging fire rapidly but they were outmatched. It wasn't until a new figure jumped into the fray that Voreina felt the grip of her grief loosen on her mind.

Like all Miraluka, she used the Force to see, as instinctive as breath to her. Just as with her mother's beliefs, she had never given the subject any more thought as the Jedi were all but exiled from Coruscant and they were a long way from Tython. After their parents' deaths, both Kamal and she had taken to wearing fake cybernetic visors over their vestigial eye sockets to deflect unwanted attention, pretending to be Humans for the sake of escaping the notice of the gangs. Scum like Black Sun would pay much to get their hands on a Force-sensitive they could bully into submission.

It had been an unlooked-for advantage, both Voreina and Kamal using their natural affinity for the Force to survive, to avoid the gangs' recruitment drives and ensure they went unnoticed.

It hadn't been enough this time. They had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But now a Jedi leapt into battle, over the heads of his compatriots, driving through the gang members like a knife through cloth. A panicked shout, and then the few gang thugs who were uninjured ran for their lives, offering only a few paltry shots to deter pursuit.

With a shudder, Voreina not only saw but felt the Knight's presence in the Force, like a warm beam of light into her darkened world. She sensed the exact moment he became aware of her also, his head turning to gaze in her direction with sadness and surprise.

The ganglands were no place for a Miraluka.

He deactivated his lightsabre and turned towards her, opening his mouth as if to speak, but Voreina did not wait for him to say anything. With a titanic effort, she lifted her brother's corpse over her shoulder and took off into the shadows, not wanting the inevitable interrogation she sensed was coming.

She had no time for it. First, she would see her brother's body safe. Then, she would seek revenge. And she would brook no interference from the Jedi.

* * *

A week later, Voreina watched the warehouse intently from her shadowed corner. After delivering her brother's body into the care of one of the few friends she had left, Voreina had thrown herself tirelessly into the hunt for the one who had pulled the trigger.

She had also gathered what gossip she could find about the Knight who had ventured into the undercity. She didn't want him crossing her path, and after he sensed her true nature, she had no doubt he would be curious. She knew hope that he might be too busy to waste time tracking down a Miralukan gangland waif, Force-sensitive or not.

But as she sensed his presence approach from the shadows of the alleyway beside her sheltered corner, she reflected wryly on hope and vanity.

"I should have remembered that old adage about Jedi and their stubborn curiosity," she murmured dryly, not bothering to look sideways to give him the benefit of pretending to be human. Masquerades were useless at this point. "How did you find me, Master Din?"

The Knight's brows rose questioningly. "How did you discover my name?" he asked.

One corner of Voreina's lips quirked in a mirthless smirk. "The undercity thrives on gossip, Master Din. But you didn't answer my question: how did you find me?"

"The undercity thrives on gossip, Miss Talos. Deaths in the ganglands are not uncommon, yet both you and your brother have a reputation for avoiding the gangs' notice with uncanny skill," he explained, a wry tone in his voice as he parroted her own words back at her. At her swift frown, he sought to ease her concern. "Fear not, child. No one suspects your true nature."

Voreina's jaw clenched as she looked away. "So have you come to lecture me about peace and forgiveness for my brother's killer, or some other load of bantha shit?"

"I understand your pain, Voreina. I would help you find solace in the hope that it will not lead you down a dark path," Din replied steadily, making Voreina roll her eyes.

"Is that what you did? Don't look so surprised," she muttered, sensing his shock. "I might be untrained but I can still sense the reek of the Dark on you. Sorrow, regret, shame-"

"Yes, I did," he interjected firmly, his eyes leaving her stony features to stare at the warehouse before them. "I failed many, once upon a time. Lost many. But I found my own peace with it. You can too, without letting the Dark side consume you whole."

"Stopping the monster who murdered my brother from killing anyone else is hardly going to push me off the deep end, Master Din," Voreina snapped. "Now, are you going to help or did you just come after me to lecture?"

The Jedi Master sighed, as if digging deep for patience, wringing an unwilling smile from Voreina, before gesturing to the warehouse. "Ladies first."

Despite herself, Voreina had to admit that it had been easier infiltrating the warehouse with a fully trained Jedi at her side. While strong, she was untrained and had nowhere near his level of control. Watching him fight beside her, for the first time Voreina understood the legend of the Jedi Order and their warriors. She'd spoken true when she'd accused him of knowing the Dark Side, but only shallowly, she realised. Through the Force, she could see the Light radiating off of him like the corona of a blue star. Shrugging the observation aside, Voreina reapplied herself to the fight, taking down the guards as quietly and non-lethally as possible. She only wanted one man dead.

She could sense him like the stench of blood lingered around him in the Force, mingled with pain, shame, fear and….regret? Why would one of the gangs regret killing any one, let alone an orphaned nobody like Kamal?

They slipped inside the living quarters of the warehouse, a rough dormitory, where military issue cots were screened to give an illusion of privacy, personal effects littering the floor. Her target lay on the bed at the very end…crying?

The closer Voreina got, her footsteps silent on the durasteel floor, the more her heart sank.

He was just a kid. Like her, like Kamal. And he was broken.

Voreina could sense it, could sense the wound her brother's murder had left in him. As she tore aside the screen, the boy fell off his cot, whimpering as he recognised the small, slight figure holding a blaster to his head.

"Please, make it stop. Make it stop, I didn't wanna do it," he babbled, crying silently. His emotions roiled off him like a wave of sickness, making Voreina nauseous. Her hand wavered, the blaster shaking wildly.

"They said they'd kill me, kill my sister and my mom too," he shook his head. "I didn't wanna do it."

"How did you end up in the gangs, son?" Din's voice was gentle and soothing, as if approaching a spooked tauntaun.

"Debt. My sister was injured, needed kolto. We needed the credits," the boy mumbled, his shame overwhelming his fear and pain for a moment. Anger lanced through Voreina for a moment, as Din reached out his hand to the boy's forehead. She felt it through the Force as he put the boy to sleep.

"What are you doing!?" she demanded, in a fierce whisper.

"Giving him what little peace I can," he sighed, staring down at the somnolent boy. "And you. Put your blaster away, Voreina Talos. If you were going to take his life, you would have done it by now."

Shaking, Voreina turned on him, grief making her wild as she lost control of it for the first time. The Jedi Master looked unconcerned, calm and collected. "Who are you to make that claim? You don't know me!?" she hissed, as the Force rippled and bucked around her, her anger spiking in her blood, sorrow lending it strength as it spread out from inside her. Metal objects began to bow, to buckle, as sparks rained down on them from imploded light fittings in the ceiling.

"I have known killers. I have fought beside them, fought against them. I have blood on my hands too," he said. "I have watched the blood consume good men and women until they have nothing left but a twisted facsimile of who they once were to cling to. You are not one of them, Voreina Talos. You are not a murderer."

Abruptly the shaking stopped and the Force calmed, as Voreina drew it back in with a shudder of effort, her brow sweating. Without another word, she holstered her blaster and turned her back on the Jedi, moving to walk away.

His last words rang in her ears.

"This is the true evil of the gangs, Voreina. What they have done to this boy, and to you. But fear doesn't have to be your only path in life."

* * *

Later that night, Voreina stumbled back into the small apartment she had shared with Kamal. Though 'apartment' was probably too generous a term for it; hovel might have been more apt a description.

She was tired. After escaping the warehouse, she had spent several hours dodging Black Sun enforcers, out for blood after the hit on the warehouse. She idly wondered what had become of that boy Din had put to sleep, then pushed him from her mind. She hadn't killed him; she didn't have the energy or the will to care what happened to him now.

After making sure her door and windows were securely locked, she stumbled towards her bed, too tired to even think about scrounging some food from somewhere. Before she did, she checked her mail.

Some instinct told her that the Jedi would not easily give up just because she'd walked away from him. And her instinct was right.

Sitting in her inbox was a message from Jedi Master Orgus Din, just as she'd expected. With a sigh, she opened it on her terminal, the tech decades old and barely held together with tape, spit and prayers but it was the best she could get.

 **Voreina,**

 **I won't insult your intelligence by pretending you don't know every argument I can think of for what I am about to suggest. You are far from stupid, and your strength in the Force alone would not have protected you from the gangs for so many years.**

 **You are wasted on Coruscant. Sooner or later, the gangs will track you down, and what then for you? Servitude? Slavery? Or worse? You have great power, Voreina, and an understanding of the harsher side of life that many in my Order lack. Life as a Jedi would not be one of ease, but then I suspect you have known ease enough in your life to miss it. The Order needs people like you, not just your strength in the Force, but your insight and your determination. The gangs are not the only ones to press good people into committing terrible crimes out of grim necessity, and the shadow of war looms ever closer.**

 **You were right when you said I had tasted the Dark Side. But then, so have you and you found the strength to pull back, as I once did. The Jedi needs knights who know the darkness in themselves as well as the light.**

 **Tomorrow afternoon, I leave Coruscant for Tython. My ship will depart from Hangar 11-B. There is a seat for you, if you want it. If you do not, then I will simply say farewell and good luck.**

 **Orgus Din**

Voreina read the missive three times, her heart pounding. She shut the terminal off abruptly, before collapsing onto her bed and pressing the heels of her hands to her visor, wishing for the relief of tears. She cried silently into her lumpy pillow, for the first time really let herself mourn Kamal's death.

Before, she'd been driven by the need to avenge her brother's death somehow. She'd been sure that the thug who had killed him had been a monster, like most of the gang muscle were. Brainless, heartless killing machines.

She'd been wrong. In another life, that could have been her with her finger on the trigger.

With that realisation, a sense of purpose replaced the grief in Voreina's heart. Not peace, never that, but purpose. Tonight, she mourned her brother.

Tomorrow, she would leave Coruscant. And one day, she would return.

One day, she would destroy the gangs so they would never harm another soul like they had harmed her. And that nameless boy who would now live his life with blood on his hands. She would do it, for him, for her and for Kamal.

Her life on Coruscant was over. Tomorrow, she would go to the spaceport. Tomorrow, she would leave Coruscant until she could return to cleanse it of the gangs.

As a Jedi Knight.

* * *

 _To be continued. Next: Teiyla & Kalimra, the Sith Marauder and the Mercenary Bounty Hunter_


End file.
